


Beneath Broken Earth

by Kei (adakie)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Cauterization, Gen, Graphic Description, Graphic descriptions of injury, Major Character Injury, Mollymauk is nonbinary and uses he/him pronouns, Panic Attacks, Whump, extremely graphic descriptions of injuries, more tags to be added in future chapters, sort of semi-whumptober in that it matches up with about half of that prompt list, the Mighty Nein should just stay clear of mines, yes I tagged that before but it's worth repeating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adakie/pseuds/Kei
Summary: They shouldn’t even be in this dark, cramped space all too similar to the tunnels where they’d found a lurking manticore and nearly lost two of their own.  They shouldn’t be fighting another town’s war.  But here they were, and Caleb hated every moment of it.They never should have come here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been too long … so, so long … since I wrote something for a fandom. Inspiration ran out, you know? Because of a lot of reasons. BUT, then I got into Critical Role, and ooh boy is that inspiring. And one of the (many) things it inspired me to get back into is writing. I know at least one other person has done something similar to this in the time I've been planning it (which was a long time indeed, life's been busy) but I wanted to go ahead and write mine anyway, so I hope that doesn't step on any toes, as it were. Thanks for reading~.

  
They never should have come here.    
  
Their mismatched band had been looking for a place to lay low for a little while.  Somewhere far away from the crownsguard’s reach and small enough that the mounting war would not reach them.  The rural town they’d stumbled into had reminded them of Alfield.  It was little more than rows of unremarkable buildings nestled between patchy tracks of farmland and the looming shadow of not too distant mountains.  They should have taken the similarity for the ill omen it was.    
  
The relative safety they’d come looking for came crashing down around them almost as soon as they arrived.  The people here were on edge, answering questions with clipped tones and nervous glances.  Nott’s mask did little to protect her from their wary gaze.  They should have left as soon as the first person edged away from her in fear.  Caleb knew how dangerous it could be for her in a place like this, where the shadowy corners that could hide them away were in such short supply.  He knew, and yet he’d stood with the others in defiant support of his truest friend, blind to the true nature of this place until the heart-stopping moment he heard her scream.    
  
Nott had fought her way out of a stranger’s hold only to be caught up by another woman as people began to pour out of homes and businesses around them.  Someone had held a sickle to her throat, its edge sharpened to a wicked point, and only that had kept Caleb from unleashing the fire that burned hot in his blood.  They knew what ‘her kind’ was here for, they’d said, and under Fjord’s insistent questioning the story came out.  Goblins were a constant in this part of the empire, but over the months they’d changed from a sometimes dangerous nuisance lurking in the wilderness to a frighteningly coordinated threat.  They’d driven the people of this town out of the mine that they’d once relied on.  Formerly rare night time raids had become more and more common until the townspeople began barricading their doors as soon as the sun began to set each day.  It had taken all of their party’s charm and skill to convince them that Nott wasn’t with the goblin hoard that was tormenting their little town.  And even then, they saw no reason to release her.  Not until the Mighty Nein had sworn to help chase the other goblins away.  Another mistake to add to the growing list.    
  
They should have turned tail and left as soon as they’d freed Nott, abandoning this shabby town and its shabby people to their own problems.  What did they owe them really?  But they’d given their word, and certain members of their party were loathe to break such a promise.  Caleb knew his word counted for next to nothing, but Jester’s?  Fjord’s?  Yasha’s?  Those were vows that mattered.  They had bound themselves in service to this place, at least for now, in exchange for their smallest friend’s safety, and the rest of them had little choice but to go along for the ride.    
  
It had been a simple thing to find their quarry camped out in the tunnels where villagers had once mined for ore and the odd semiprecious stone.  Even the goblin guards placed near the entrance were no match for their party.  But the sounds of battle had drawn not only more goblins but larger, stronger, and more deadly opponents.  Hulking, beastly brutes wearing scavenged leathers over mangy fur had pushed them deeper into the mines, following the orders of armored warriors brandishing their own wicked blades.    
  
They shouldn’t even be in this dark, cramped space all too similar to the tunnels where they’d found a lurking manticore and nearly lost two of their own.  They shouldn’t be fighting another town’s war.  But here they were, and Caleb hated every moment of it.    
  
Caleb was nearly blind in these shadowy tunnels, only the diffused glow of his own dancing lights letting him keep track of which dark shapes were his friends and which were trying to kill him.  He crouched behind a pile of large, uneven stones that looked like they might have come tumbling down from the cavern’s ceiling at some point in the not too distant past.  Garbled shouts and the clang of clashing blades echoed off the walls.  The musty tunnels were starting to reek of blood and burnt flesh.  He’d already used up far too much magic and was starting to run low.  If only he’d managed to hold his concentration and keep those two hobgoblins slowed.  He twisted around his impromptu shelter to glance back at the battle, wincing as the motion pulled at a wound that stretched across his back.  Fighters moved like living shadows darting through the dark not too far away.  A familiar glow began to light the space as Mollymauk was pushed back along a bend in the tunnel, his swords blazing with radiant energy.  He stood out like a beacon of violet and crimson.  Molly spit out something in infernal, stinging words barely audible over the chaos, and snarled as he went in for another arcing swipe with his swords.    
  
A small, cloaked figure skittered past them, edging around the fighters.  Hope momentarily surged in Caleb as they approached, but when they drew closer that hope seized into dread.  It was a goblin girl, yes, but not the one he’d wished to see.  Her hair was cut short in a shaggy, ash black mane and her brown cloak was stained with old blood.  Lamplight eyes turned towards him, reflecting the dim glow of magical light like yellow beacons, and narrowed in anger.  The goblin let out a shrill, gravely shriek and dove for him, lashing out with a dagger.  Caleb ducked to the side and the blade struck stone.  He raised his glove of blasting, triggering its magic on instinct.  Three bolts of fiery energy shot from his shaking palm, and though one went wide and struck a stone wall harmlessly the other two found their target.  The force of the impact sent his attacker flying backwards with a wail of pain.  She hit the ground and rolled, tumbling further away until, suddenly, she vanished from view.  It happened so quickly that at first Caleb thought she’d somehow triggered an invisibility spell.  He heard a wailing shriek of terror.  The clatter of a falling weapon.  The crunch of a broken body meeting stone.    
  
Caleb’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what had happened.  There was a pit, a very deep one if the echoing scream was any indication, just out of sight in the treacherous tunnels.  If he’d gone just a little further in search of cover, he’d have run right into it.  He flattened himself against jagged rocks, heart hammering in his chest.    
  
Prying his gaze away from the dark void the goblin girl had vanished into, he saw the large creature Molly had been fighting rear back as a burst of blood gushed from a deep slash across its chest.  It took a wild swing with a heavy, spiked club but hit only empty air.  Enraged, the beast roared and surged forward, barreling into Mollymauk and slamming him into the stone wall.  He let out a yell that was cut short as a clawed hand clamped down around his neck.  His swords slipped from slackened hands, clattering to the floor.  The radiant glow of blood magic winked out, but there was still just enough light from Caleb’s magic orbs to see their silhouetted forms.  The creature pulled back and lifted Molly high into the air, snarling something guttural as his flailing limbs kicked at its bulky body.  Its club hit the ground, abandoned in favor of tightening its grasp on the struggling tiefling, squeezing until at last he went limp.  
  
Caleb fought down a rush of panic.  He raised the glove but found its magic spent, as was much of his own.  Desperate, he reached for the only thing he knew would never leave him.  Outstretched fingers started to blacken as a fire bolt shot forth from his hand.  It struck the beast in the side and the stench of burning fur quickly permeated the enclosed space.   The creature staggered in pain, but did not release its prize like he’d hoped.  Instead it rounded on him, searching for the source of this new threat.  It took one step, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.  The beast looked back at where its weapon had landed, then at the limp body still held in its grasp.  With a guttural growl, it hurled Mollymauk’s lifeless form through the air.    
  
Caleb tried to speak, to yell, to cast anything that might help fix this, but his voice was frozen like a lump of ice in his chest.  He watched helpless as Molly struck the ground, limp body bouncing against stone, missing his hiding place and instead skidding right towards the yawning pit behind him.  Caleb surged to his feet, trying to grab a stray limb or the hem of a coat, but was too slow.  He was dimly aware of the creature roaring in rage, but then a different sound cut it short; the distinctive twang and thunk of a crossbow bolt finding its target.  Arcane words rang out, shouted by a high pitched, desperate voice.  The tingling buzz of energy sang through the air.  And suddenly, just as he disappeared over the edge, Mollmauk was caught in an invisible cloud of magic.  Falling gently, but still falling.  Disappearing into the emptiness.    
  
He was moving before he’d even realized it.  Fear propelling him away from the shelter of the rocks, Caleb sprinted the short distance to the edge of the pit.  He hit his hands and knees, leaned out over the yawning darkness, and reached towards Molly’s slowly falling form.  His hand wrapped around a warm wrist moments before it would have dipped out of reach and he held on tight.  Nott’s magic fought against the pull of gravity, buoying Mollymauk as if he were drifting in the calm water of a lake rather than hanging over a potentially deadly drop.  Caleb tried to pull him up, but found that to be much more difficult than he’d hoped.  He wasn’t what anyone would call strong, and the feather fall spell could only do so much to help.  He shuffled backwards, looking for something he could use to brace himself.  Nothing.  His searching hand found only empty air.  He called for help, but even as he did he knew no response would be coming.  The sounds of fighting had drifted further away from him as the goblinoid hoard pushed his friends back.  The fact that Nott had been close enough to get off her spell before Molly fell beyond her reach was a miracle on its own.    
  
If he couldn’t find something to keep himself anchored until help arrived, he’d have to make it.  With a quick gesture and a few muttered words, he cast one of the only spells he had left.  Arcane energy swirled behind him, taking the form of a ghostly hand.  There was a tug on his jacket as the manifested magic took hold, and it didn’t come a moment too soon.  Mollymauk’s full weight had begun to drag him down, the feather fall magic doing nothing to support him now that he was no longer falling.  Caleb let out a sharp groan as his already wounded shoulder throbbed under the strain.  The last thing he expected was to hear that sound echoed back at him.    
  
“Caleb?” Molly asked, ragged and breathless, the word slurred in a way that didn’t sound good at all.  Caleb forced his own panic induced fog away and found Mollymauk staring up at him.  His red eyes, vivid even in the dark, were squinted in a way that made them seem unfocused.  Blood streaked down his face, painting crimson patterns across the blue and green feathers that curled across his features.    
  
“It’s alright,” Caleb replied, doing his best to sound more sure than he felt, “it will be alright.”    
  
Not that long ago he wouldn’t have been able to imagine going to such lengths for another person.  Except, perhaps, for Nott.  Charity for strangers wasn’t something he could afford.  But this wasn’t just a stranger anymore.  This was Mollymauk, and he couldn’t bring himself to abandon Molly to the inky emptiness threatening to swallow him up.  Caleb heard Fjord shout something as heavy footsteps approached them.  “The others are coming.  I’ve got you till then.  They’ll -”    
  
Something struck his back, the force of it nearly making him lose his grip.  At first it almost felt like he’d been punched or perhaps struck with the business end of Beau’s staff.  It was a dull sort of pain, an ache in his back and side that drove the breath from his lungs.  Then he remembered to breathe, and the simple movement lit him ablaze.  Burning pain blossomed from the wound, chasing away the momentary numbness and leaving agony in its wake.  His muscles tensed around the sharpened metal of a sword, even the smallest shift biting into him anew.  
  
Definitely not Fjord.    
  
Someone leaned close, hot, rotten breath gusting over Caleb’s hair as a gravely voice chuckled.  Their hand wrapped around his shoulder in a bruising grip.  The blade was wrenched free, its sharp edge scraping along his ribs.  The last trembling threads of his arcane power flickered out and the mage hand spell vanished.  Caleb fell forward as the stranger released him, barely catching himself on one elbow.  A pulse of agony raced down his arm but he held on tight, fingers digging into that warm, thin wrist that had become the center of his world.  Molly was shouting below him, but his voice was muffled as if he were miles away.    
  
A heavy, armored boot planted itself on Caleb’s back, driving him into the ground.  It pulled away just long enough for him to drag in a ragged breath then slammed back down, heel digging in with a vicious kick.  His knees slid in a slick puddle of his own blood.  Someone was screaming, but he couldn’t be sure if it was Molly, Nott, or perhaps himself.  And then the ground beneath him was gone.    
  
Sickening vertigo spun the world sideways as he fell.  Caleb was lost in it, helpless against the rush of gravity, until something warm and grounding wrapped around him.  He found himself suspended, not quite still but not plummeting the way he had been, cushioned against Mollymauk’s chest.  There was an arm around him, holding tight to the fabric of his coat to keep him in place.  A warm wrist still held tight in his own grasp.  Molly looked at him with a bloodstained grin … and the magic keeping them up flickered out.    
  
Stagnant air rushed past, loud as roaring wind.  They twisted and tumbled until he had no way of knowing up from down.  Somewhere up above, people screamed and the cavern shook.  A shower of rocks rained down alongside them.  An endless moment later they struck stone with a bone jarring impact, and the darkness leaked into Caleb’s mind to drag him under.    

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that I finally found the time to finish chapter 2. Or, finish enough that it's postable ... I'm sure I could spend days editing it but you know what, good enough. But really quick I wanted to shout out an inspiration for this fic; everything sparxwrites writes is amazing and you should absolutely go read their stuff. Especially if you like beautifully written torment. (There's another fic that I thought about a lot while planning this story, but it wasn't a critrole story and for the life of me I can't find it. Will post it later if I can.)

  
Caleb woke to what sounded like distant thunder.    
  
He was lying on cold, hard ground.  Separated from the others, he remembered as he shook off the fog in his mind.  Taken down and kicked aside in the middle of a fight.  The sounds of battle were far away, only their ghostly echoes reaching down into the depths where he’d fallen.  The deep booming that had woken him came again, rumbling through the caverns, and with it the skittering tumble of something very much like a rockslide.  Small stones fell from above, bouncing and scattering in every direction.  Caleb didn’t give it much thought until a rock about the size of a fist landed on his back.  The impact would only be enough to bruise on any other day but in that moment it sent a burst of blazing agony racing through him.  He gasped sharply, instinctively curling up only to regret the action as something pulled in a way it absolutely was not supposed to.  A voice that was only somewhat his own whispered instruction from half-buried memories.  ‘Calm down.  Be still.  Breathe slowly.  This will pass.’    
  
When he’d blinked the fuzzy haze away from his vision, he was finally able to take stock of what was around him.  Caleb could hardly see a thing, the place he now found himself as dark as moonless midnight, but the stale air spoke of a small space too long undisturbed.  He took a deep breath to calm his frantic mind despite knowing on some level that it wasn’t the best of ideas.  Echoes of pain flared in his chest like glowing coals, but he could deal with those.  He’d learned how to ignore such trivial distractions long ago.  No, it was the smell that made panic surge fresh in his heart.  In this cramped space the stench of blood, death, and burning was overwhelming.    
  
Caleb shut his eyes tight, though there was little need for that in the inky darkness, and sought out the scraps of his arcane energy.  The words he spoke were practiced.  Nearly effortless.  The embers of his power flared into four gently glowing lights which rose up from his open palm to drift in a lazy circle up above.  When he opened his eyes once more, it was to a mostly featureless stone chamber.  One he wasn’t alone in.    
  
Mollymauk was sprawled at his feet.  He was turned at an awkward angle, one leg folded up painfully beneath him.  Caleb’s hand trembled as he reached out to him.  The body beneath his touch was warm and breathing.  Still alive.  A splatter of cooling blood soaked the ground beneath his head, yet the wound that had caused it was closed.  It wasn’t exactly healed, what had been an open gash standing out like an angry red stripe over darkly bruised skin, but there was a world of difference between what he saw and the kind of wound that would have resulted in that much blood loss.  Caleb’s gaze was drawn to the glitter of polished gemstone.  A heart shaped pendant lay askew across Mollymauk’s chest, still shimmering with fading light from the magic which danced within its facets.  That amulet had to be, without doubt, the best purchase any of them had ever made.    
  
Caleb carefully rolled Molly onto his back, checking for any hint of broken bone as he went.  Unfortunately, although his spine seemed to be intact, he hadn’t quite escaped unscathed.  The leg that had been pinned beneath him was all too clearly broken.  Molly’s ridiculously tall boots hid the damage from view, but even that sturdy leather hadn’t kept the limb from bending at an unnatural angle.  He must have turned them both mid freefall in an attempt to land on his feet.  And, apparently, it had worked.  It might have even saved him.  The enchanted necklace he wore could do quite a bit, but Caleb doubted it would have been able to mend his neck given how it had failed to realign his leg.    
  
They needed to get out of here.  The way they’d gotten in was less than ideal to say the least, and Caleb didn’t fancy the thought of anyone else attempting it to get to them.  Levitation magic could do the trick, but that was a spell he hadn’t managed to acquire.  Climbing out wasn’t an option either.  Even disregarding Molly’s broken leg, the walls around them were almost perfectly vertical.  They were far from smooth, time and nature breaking the surface into long, uneven planes, but the cracks and gaps dotting them were too far apart to make decent hand holds for even an experienced climber.  Which Caleb was decidedly not.   The rest of the chamber was devoid of any defining features save for two things.  The first was a carved out hole leading off into another darkened tunnel, equally as likely to be either safe passage or a dead end.  The other …   
  
There was a small, green-skinned figure lying close by.  The goblin he’d accidentally sent over the edge of the pit.  He’d heard her scream when she went over, heard the clatter of her weapon falling from her grasp and the heavy thud of her body when it landed on unforgiving stone.  Wispy plumes of dark smoke still rose from her burnt clothing and blackened flesh.  One yellow eye was still open, now sightless and dry.  The other was lost to the shattered mess of gore that had once been her skull.    
  
Caleb lurched back from the sight like it had burned him.  He turned away, braced himself against the carved rock of the chamber, and threw up.  The violent convulsions that race through his body brought with them an agony so intense that the world tunneled into a gray haze and he nearly let his mind slip away again, but he couldn’t stop them until they’d run their course.  When the horror at last released him, he slumped breathless against the wall of his prison.  He wrapped his arms around himself as if that alone could somehow keep him from shaking apart.  It wasn’t Nott in this cavern with him.  It wasn’t her shattered on the ground, broken beyond the pull of any magic he knew of.  She was somewhere up above them, fighting alongside people who would keep her safe.  That’s what Caleb repeated to himself until his frantic thoughts quieted and the fear he had no name for released its grip.  
  
A chill that had noting to do with their underground prison had worked its way into his bones.  Except, that is, for his side and back which still pulsed with a wet heat.  Slowly he uncurled from his huddle and forced himself to take stock of his own situation.  His hand was painted brilliant crimson.  He could feel the blood soaking his shirt and seeping into the soft lining of his coat.  Too much blood, thought some capable and disjointed part of his mind.  If it hadn’t stopped by now it wouldn’t be stopping on its own.  He had to deal with that quickly.    
  
If only he had a potion left.  The thought sparked something in his near-perfect memory.  A potion!  Mollymauk should still have one in his pack from the last time they’d restocked.  Caleb scurried over as quickly as his injuries would allow and started digging through the pockets and pouches hidden in Molly’s colorful coat.  Something sharp stabbed into his skin.  He pulled back, staring at freshly bloodied fingers.  Dread settled like a weight in his gut.  Carefully he freed the pouch from Mollymauk’s belt and tilted it, letting the contents spill out.  A mismatched collection of coins and trinkets tumbled onto the ground, and amidst them was thick liquid coating a shower of glass shards.    
  
Cursing under his breath, Caleb swept the rest of Molly’s collection back into the pouch, sticky healing potion residue and all.  The glass he brushed aside, letting it clatter off into some shadowy corner of their prison.  It would do no one any good now.  With neither magic nor potions to fix things, he knew his options were limited to say the least.  Neither of them had a healer’s kit, improvised or otherwise.  Caleb started digging through the numerous pockets of his own coat.  He kept all manner of things in there, mostly components for various spells that he’d tucked away in so many different places that should anyone try to search him they would surely miss at least one.  And among them, wrapped protectively around a spool of delicate silver thread, was some old cloth.  It had been a shirt once, picked up randomly so long ago that Caleb couldn’t remember if he’d begged, bartered, or stole to get it, but time and monstrous claws had reduced it to rags.  Still, rags could be useful, so he’d decided to keep it.  A decision he was now immensely grateful for.    
  
Caleb gingerly pulled the ends of his shirt from his belt, wincing as the fabric tried to stick to his skin.  He called one of his lights down to hover close by.  In the dim glow, his right side glimmered deep crimson.  Cautious fingertips probed at the mess, pressing against flesh and making a spurt of fresh blood bubble up from a vertical slash beneath his ribs.  The exit wound didn’t look like much on its own.  Neither did the matching gash on his back, long and tapered from where the blade had been jerked up as it had been removed.  Off center enough that he didn’t think his attacker had cut into anything vital.  Just far enough in that his side hadn’t been ripped open entirely.  He’d been lucky, even if he didn’t particularly feel like it.    
  
All it took was a few sharp tugs to rip the ragged cloth he’d found into two more or less equal pieces.  He pressed the larger one against his back, tucking the smaller into his pockets for safe keeping.  It took some doing to hold it there while he unwound the old bandages he wore on one of his arms.  He had to untie it with his teeth then trap one end in place while trembling hands wound it around his torso, slipping the smaller piece of fabric in against the exit wound.  It was clumsy and awkward and a bit too tight once he’d tied the whole thing off, but it would do.    
  
That was one problem sorted, at least for now.  And with his own injuries seen to as best he could, Caleb’s thoughts drifted again to Mollymauk.  He didn’t need bandaging thanks to the periapt, but something had to be done about his leg.  It would be next to impossible for him to move on his own without it at least being braced.  The problem was, there was very little in this pit to make a brace or splint from.  With no small amount of reluctance, Caleb turned to the only other person there with them.  The dead goblin was just where he’d left her, not that he expected anything different.  She had no packs or pouches to search.  There was, however, a broken shortbow lying half under her shattered body and a quiver of arrows still strapped to her leg.  Not ideal in any respect, but it was all he had so it would have to do.    
  
Caleb approached her slowly and reached out with shaking hands to pluck the arrows from her side.  He retreated as soon as they were free, scooting back towards Molly.  It was foolish, he knew, to be so anxious around her.  She wasn’t about to spring up like some undead ghoul and attack him.  There was no life in her, unnatural or otherwise.  She’d stopped being a person.  All that remained was a thing.  Pulling his coat tighter around his shuddering shoulders, Caleb turned away and tried to block out the image of her broken body.    
  
It was almost a relief to work on the arrows, snapping their sharpened tips off and quickly sanding away jagged splinters on the stone floor.  This was a problem he could actually solve.  It took more force than he’d expected to straighten out Mollymauk’s leg, but eventually he felt the bone snap back into place.  It was a miracle that Molly hadn’t woken up screaming.  Or, perhaps, a bad sign of something that Caleb couldn’t fix.  He set the arrow shafts around the leg in pairs and used the final strip of bandages from his arms to tie the makeshift splint in place.  It wasn’t much, but between the reinforcement and the sturdy leather of Molly’s boot, Caleb hoped that it would be enough.    
  
He let himself lean against a stone wall, more winded by his efforts than he thought he should be.  A muffled booming resonated above them and the cavern trembled, tiny pebbles tumbling down to bounce and skitter across the ground.  Caleb didn’t like being separated from the others like this, not knowing if they needed his help or even realized that he was gone.  Maybe he’d been stupid to grab Mollymauk the way he had.  Maybe if he’d just trusted in Nott’s magic, the feather fall spell would have gotten him safely to the ground.   As he looked up through the dimly lit tunnel of stone separating them from the surface, he wasn’t sure.  His rash actions had certainly backfired on him and might have only made things worse for Molly as well but … what if?  His treacherous mind flashed to the dead goblin girl.  He couldn’t bear the thought of one of the Mighty Nein meeting such an end.  Not Molly or Nott or any of them.  And if being stuck down here aching and bloody was the price he had to pay to prevent that, he was surprised to find himself willing to pay it.  When had that managed to sneak up on him, he wondered.  When had they become something more than useful?    
  
Tremors like a rising quake suddenly began to vibrate through the stone not below him but above.  The walls shook, dislodging bits of rock that rained down on them.  Caleb moved to shield Molly with his own body but hesitated.  He remembered all too well how taking a hit from even a small rock had gone for him.  So instead, he grabbed both of the unconscious tiefling’s arms and began to drag him towards the tunnel.  Pain radiated from his back and side in relentless waves, but he pushed it into a distant corner of his mind.  There was no time for that now.    
  
By the time he’d gotten them both into the tunnel, Caleb was gasping for breath.  He let go, allowing Molly to flop onto the ground in a more or less orderly sprawl, and staggered backwards.  Large stones struck the place they’d been with frightening force.  One landed with a sick crunch on the dead goblin’s outstretched arm.  The world tilted around Caleb in a way that had nothing to do with the quake happening up above.  He hit a wall with his shoulder and slid down it, letting himself hunch over into a trembling, wheezing ball.    
  
He stayed that way long after he was finally able to breathe again, past even the time when the quake finally rumbled to a halt.  Only when everything was still and quiet once more did he call his dancing lights into the cavern.  It was dark even then, stretching on behind them into an empty nothingness.  Even with his thick coat, Caleb felt cold in this empty cave.  Except, that is, for his side.  His heart sunk as he slowly uncurled to find fresh blood already soaking the impromptu bandages.    
  
This was bad.  There was no help coming, at least not any time soon.  No magic, no potion, and first aid wasn’t enough.  That left him with two options, only one of which he actually had the supplies for.  He could … he needed to … but could he really?  Caleb bit his lip, only vaguely aware of the sting the nervous action caused.  He’d been trained for these sorts of possibilities.  He could do this, at least in theory.  Besides, there was no other option really.  If he didn’t do something he’d bleed out.  This was life or death, and he had too much left to atone for to let himself die here.  
  
Caleb tied his shirt and coat up, knotting the fabric to keep it away from his wounds.  He wouldn’t have a free hand to hold it.  The bandages were half soaked in wet crimson.  He would replace them if he could, but he’d been lucky to find even this much.  He loosened them just enough to slide them down, revealing the deceptively small slashes that were the cause of all this.  After a moment’s hesitation, he dug through his pockets till he found a strap of leather among his spell components and bit down on it.  He wasn’t afraid of making any noise, not here where the only person likely to hear him was unresponsive, but he’d rather not bite through his tongue and trade one problem for another.    
  
With nothing left to distract him from his mission, Caleb turned his attention inward.  Powerful magic lived within him; a font of arcane energy ready to sing at his command.  But it was slow to refill, and he’d used up nearly everything he had.  Nearly.  There were sparks left there still, little embers of power that were always with him.  He chose one, familiar as breath, and it flared into a dancing flame.    
  
Blue eyes slid open as he captured the spell, holding it at the very instant before release.  It took a lot of concentration, almost more than he had with the pain constantly pulsing in time with his heart, but he manged it still.  His hands gave off a dull glow as the fire magic he’d trapped there struggled to break free.  The blood coating his skin began to burn instantly, turning to a dark, ruddy ash.  He could hardly see the way his skin began to blacken beneath it.  He flexed his fingers experimentally, testing his hold on the spell that longed to launch itself across the cavern.  Fire hadn’t always done this to him.  It had been his friend once.  And it was still, despite how it hurt him.  That was only fair, after all.  He didn’t want to be kind to himself either.    
  
Till the count of ten.  That should be long enough to seal the wound and stop the bleeding.  He clung to the last bit of rational thought he had left, hoping it was some bastion of sanity.  ‘Don’t stop, that will hurt worse.  Don’t pull away.  You can survive this.  This will help you.’    
  
Caleb drew in a long breath and held it.  He bit down on the leather strap, teeth just barely sinking in to the tough surface.  Then he lined up his hands, praying that he wouldn’t miss the long slash on his back, and pressed burning fingers into the wounds.    
  
His body spasmed against his will but somehow he managed to hold on.  Caleb had felt the pain of fire before.  From little accidents as a child just beginning to learn the power the flames possessed to so many times in his adult life he wished he could scrub clean from his near perfect memory, its bite was nothing new to him.  But this was different.  He longed to pull away from the source of this new and all consuming torment, arching and writhing under his own touch, but his grip remained firm.  A small blessing really.  He couldn’t let go, not yet.    
  
‘Eins … zwei … drei … ’  
  
He could no loner see the way his hand glowed beneath spreading patches of char, the fire that always lurked in his blood shining as it forced its way out through his skin.  He couldn’t hear the hiss and sizzle experience had taught him to recognize through the thunderous roar in his ears.  Couldn’t feel anything other than the slow melting of his own flesh as the rest of his body was rendered weightless and numb. But the smell, ooh he was so very, painfully, wretchedly aware of the smell.  It was overwhelming and familiar.  Human flesh was little more than overcooked meat under searing flame, almost appealing and all the more sickening for it.  Smoke coiled around him, permeating the small space with the stench, infusing it into his clothes and hair and mind.    
  
‘ … zehn.’  
  
Caleb sucked in a ragged breath, the leather strip falling from his open mouth.  He nearly choked as the hot, smokey air filled his lungs.  His throat and chest burned.  Had he been screaming?  He didn’t know and couldn’t bring himself to care.  His hands shook fiercely, small pieces of black char flaking off and falling around him like scattered ash.  Still, he managed to slide the bandages back over his newly sealed wounds and tug them tight.    
  
He slumped against uneven stone, too weak to keep himself upright now that the bowstring tension in his limbs had been cut.  Caleb sagged against the wall as his shaky breathing slowed.  Dimly glowing magic lights winked out one by one.  His eyes slid shut, and silent darkness claimed the tunnels once more.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that updates to this come so slowly. But, better late than never? If you're still hanging around tumblr and want to chat/ramble/watch the occasional Thursday liveblog flailing, I'm over there as ashadowcalledkei.

  
It was dark.  Of all the things that clamored for Mollymauk’s attention as he dragged himself back to consciousness, somehow that one stole his focus the most.  He was used to always being able to see, at least a little, even when nearly all light had been snuffed out.  Sure the world would become faded, color leaching away till all that remained were flat tones of gray, but at least he was still able to make out basic shapes.  But not now.  Not here.    
  
He rubbed at his eyes and blinked them rapidly, hoping to clear whatever had affected his vision, but nothing changed.  Had he been hit with some kind of blinding enchantment?  It would almost be fitting, given how many times he’d pulled that little stunt himself.  But if he had, the others wouldn’t have left him on his own.  Right?  Where were they anyway?  He couldn’t hear any voices around him.  Molly pushed himself upwards on trembling arms.  He closed his eyes tight, for all the good that did, as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him.  His head pulsed with pain.  He reached out blindly in an attempt to at least ground himself.  His hands brushed against stone.  The uneven rock continued upwards.  Downwards.  To both sides as far as he could reach.  The ground below him was stone as well, worn down and coated in a thick layer of dirt.  Somewhere far away, a thunderous boom echoed.  No, he realized, not far away.  Just muffled.  Made fuzzy and soft by layers of rock and dirt.  He was underground.  Sealed away.  Buried alive.    
  
Breath caught in his throat, the dry air all but choking him.  It reeked of blood beneath the musty stench of forgotten earth.  Mollymauk thrust his hands out, moving them in a wide arc around himself. Beyond the rocky surface he found open air, still and silent save for his own increasingly rapid breathing.  Yet when he leaned away from the wall he’d been lying beside, there was more unyielding stone waiting for him.  He yanked his hand away as quickly as if he’d been scalded.  A tunnel?  Not a hastily dug grave, at least.  They’d been fighting in some kind of cavern, hadn’t they?  So he must still be there.  But, this wasn’t the same sort of space.  The old mine they’d been sent to investigate had been spacious, almost cozy if unnecessarily twisting in its construction.  This pitch black hole was anything but.  Had he fallen?  He must have, it was the only thing that made sense.  But would the others find him if he had?    
  
He shifted and began to stand only to let out an involuntary yelp as fresh agony raced through his leg.  The sound echoed back to him, amplified by hard stone walls much too close for comfort.  Molly hit his knees and bit back another guttural scream.  No no no!  He had to get out of here!    
  
There was a shifting sound fairly close by as something stirred in the dark.  Mollymauk froze.  His hands clenched into fists in the dirt.  He wasn’t alone here.  Maybe one of the goblin hoard had fallen with him.  Or maybe it was something else entirely, some sort of creature that lived down here in the darkness.  Something that didn’t need light to see him.  His pulse roared in his ears, nearly silencing the low murmur of whatever it was that he was trapped with.    
  
He couldn’t fight here, even if he was able to stand.  This place was too small.  Too cramped.  He was boxed in by earth and stone.  How was he supposed to defend himself?  How was he supposed to escape?  If he couldn’t find his way out, the others would leave him.  They’d leave him behind with the darkness and the creatures and the dirt and he’d never find them again!  
  
Light flared to life around him, so different from the oppressive darkness that the glow was blinding.  Molly threw himself backwards.  His bad leg folded underneath him and he froze for a moment, one hand clamped over his mouth as agony paralyzed his body.  The thing moved, shifting closer, and he forced himself to scoot away.  An infernal curse sprang from his lips.  The power of his words snapped through the air, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.  Shying away from both the bright light and the shadowy shape he could now see edging towards him, he pressed his open hand back to his lips.  There was only one other trick he could try.  His teeth were sharp enough to cut into the meat of his palm, a fact he knew from unfortunate experience, and draw the amount of blood he’d need.  He could curse whatever this was and then maybe … maybe …   
  
A hand struck the side of his face, open palm connecting with his cheek in a stinging slap.  Molly let his arms fall limp.  He blinked in surprise, squinting at the culprit, his mouth hanging slightly open.  Slowly dimming lights retreated as a familiar face leaned in close to him.    
  
“Are you hearing me now?”    
  
Caleb’s soft voice, usually so pleasant to hear, was rough as sandpaper.  His haggard face was obscured by grime and smears of half-dried blood.  He looked like he’d been beaten half to death, which admittedly wasn’t that uncommon for any member of the Mighty Nein, but he was there and very much alive.  Which meant that, wherever they were, Molly wasn’t alone.  He nodded, unable to find his words just yet, and to his surprise Caleb sighed in relief.    
  
“Good.”  He reached for Molly’s face once more, but this time his calloused palm was a soothing warmth on still stinging skin.  Caleb pat his cheek, gentle and grounding.  “Back in the game.”  
  
“You remember that?” Mollymauk asked with a quaking imitation of his usual bravado.  
  
“I remember everything.”     
  
In the dim, magical light, he thought he saw the wizard flash him a wry, crooked grin.  Was Caleb trying to tease him?  It was a pathetic attempt if so, yet the whole thing was just so absurd that Molly couldn’t help but laugh.  And just like that, he could breathe again.    
  
“Well this is a fine mess,” he said as he settled.  Or at least, he tried to.  With the dregs of panic releasing him, the pain from his leg was getting harder to ignore.  Mollymauk ran his hand over it, tracing the outline of what looked like sticks and bandages.  A hastily constructed splint, if he was reading the situation right.    
  
Caleb frowned at him, expression pinched in a way that all of the Mighty Nein had become very familiar with.  “You leg is broken, I’m afraid.  But it’s your head I’m more worried about.  We fell quite a long ways.”  
  
Molly couldn’t help but touch the side of his head, where the beginnings of a migraine seemed to radiate from.  He found a swollen lump surrounding a tender, barely healed scar.  Some sort of magic had healed him, though it hadn’t done a stellar job of it.  A long fall, huh?  Just him and Caleb.  The pieces slotted into place and suddenly the picture became clear.  Yes he had fallen, or to be fair he’d been thrown after momentarily passing out at the hands of a particularly angry bugbear.  But Caleb had caught him.  He’d woken up to find the wizard holding on for dear life and trying to haul him back up before a feather fall spell wore out.  Only, it hadn’t quite gone the way either of them wanted.  Molly rubbed at his wrist.  There were a series of small, nearly insignificant cuts there where blunt human fingernails had dug into his skin.    
  
“And what about you?  Something hit you, I saw that much.”  
  
Caleb almost managed to hide his reflexive flinch.  Almost.  “I have taken care of it.”  
  
Molly was far from convinced.  He didn’t consider himself a particularly intelligent person, at least not in the way some of his companions were, but he did pride himself on his ability to read people.  He’d honed the skill over his years in the carnival, watching the subtle changes in a person’s face as he laid his cards on the table and following the shift of their emotions through the things they said and deliberately did not say.  There was a lot that Caleb did not say.  The tiny cave smelled of blood, burning, and some other foulness that he couldn’t name.  It was, sad to say, not all that unusual considering his current company.  Still, for the aroma to still be this strong was cause for concern, and Molly thought he could see a dark, wet patch on Caleb’s shirt.    
  
“No offense but you look about as good as I feel.”  
  
Caleb shifted back, curling into a protective hunch that Molly doubted he was even aware of.  “It will be fine.  Jester can heal us both as soon as we get out of here.”  He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging, and gestured towards one end of the cavern.  “Unfortunately that is easier said than done at this point.”  
  
The magic globules, dimmed as they were, might not give off much in the way of light, but for tiefling eyes it was more than enough.  Mercifully, the cave wasn’t quite as small as Molly had originally thought.  It was still barely big enough for either of them to stand in, but at least it extended out a fair ways in either direction.  Behind him there was only empty darkness leading off to who knows what.  Not an encouraging sight, but what lay in the other direction was worse.  Large stones were piled up in a careless mound that reached up beyond what he could see from the little cavern, nearly sealing off the entrance.  Mollymauk inched carefully over, trying to get a better look.  He gagged as the putrid scent grew stronger.  
  
“Gods, what is that?  It smells like … “  
  
Like death.  The realization crystallized in his mind.  A fetid mix of burnt flesh, split organs, and so much blood lurked in the dust-choked air.  Then he saw it.  A small arm sprawled out from beneath some of the larger boulders.  A green, shoe-less foot twisted nearly backwards.  A snarled tangle of dark, gore-soaked hair.    
  
“T-that isn’t … “  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Caleb said in a hollow tone, cutting that train of thought short before he could voice what they were, no doubt, both thinking.  “We are the only two who fell.”  
  
‘Are you sure?’ Molly couldn’t help but think, though he kept that thought to himself.  There had been plenty of goblins in that hoard, even some who, in the darkness of the mine, looked eerily similar to their smallest friend.  In the chaos of battle, one of them could have easily ended up at the bottom of this pit before the rockslide had sealed it.  They certainly had.  And besides, there was a cold kind of certainty to Caleb’s words.  Something born of old pain and new regrets.    
  
“What happened to the others?”    
  
“I don’t know.  The fight was still going on when we fell and … well, I couldn’t hear much else.”    
  
He didn’t need to press Caleb for details.  The way his companion fidgeted, picking at the ragged hem of his coat with trembling fingers, spoke volumes.  So Molly put on a confident facade of his own, easily slipping into the well worn mask of bravery.  “Well then, what do you say we dig our way out of this mess and find out?”    
  
He pretended not to notice the way Caleb’s mouth opened in silent words of protest.  The hand half raised to reach for him was similarly ignored, as were the nervous glances flicking between himself and the precarious tower of boulders before them.  Mollymauk wasn’t foolish enough to think that they had any real chance of escaping this without help.  Maybe if they were both at full strength he and Caleb could move enough rocks to construct a crude staircase and climb their way up, but with both of them injured it just wasn’t in the cards.  Still, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.  And if moving rocks for a while was what it took to keep his thoughts from spiraling back into the empty dirt, then that’s what he was going to do.    
  
After a few ill fated attempts at finding a good position, Molly ended up sitting at the base of the pile with one leg folded and the other sprawled out to the side.  The smaller stones were easy enough to move, and he chucked as many as he could reach behind him where they clattered noisily down the tunnel.  The larger rocks, however, were going to be a problem.  The first one he tried to move made the entire thing shift and both Molly and Caleb held their breath for a few long, tense moments until they were sure the towering mass wasn’t about to come down on them.  After that he was a bit more careful, testing each possibility until he found one that seemed promising.    
  
He did nothing to stifle the little sounds of effort and frustration that came so easily to him.  They filled the silence well enough. Perhaps that was why he didn’t notice Caleb coming up beside him until a second set of hands joined his own.  The pair of them struggled to lift the heavy boulder, but eventually were able to haul it out of its resting place and send it tumbling off towards the tunnel.  One down, countless more to go.  And even that one had left him winded.    
  
Molly turned to his companion, a bit of friendly teasing already half formed on his lips, but the lighthearted comment dissolved into silence.  Caleb was breathing hard, his face pale and pinched with pain.  The magic lights dotting the area flickered faintly, dimmer now than they had been.    
  
“Why don’t we take a break,” he said instead.    
  
Caleb seemed ready to argue with him, but a sudden look of surprise stopped the protest before it had even begun.    
  
“What is it?”  Molly strained his senses, searching for some sign that they weren’t as alone as he’d thought.   
  
“Nott.”  There was something almost reverent in the quiet whisper of her name.  Then a smile blossomed across Caleb’s face.  It was a message spell, Mollymauk realized as the wizard fished for something in his pocket.  Contact from their friends up above.  Caleb nearly dropped the item he’d found, but in no time his clever fingers were twisted around a length of copper as he moved them in familiar arcane patterns.  “Nott,” he repeated into the wire, “It’s so good to hear your voice.  What happened up there?”   
  
Molly sat back, carefully arranging himself so he could lean against one of the larger rocks.  He watched as emotions flickered across Caleb’s face almost too quickly to be seen.  But there was no shock.  Neither horror nor grief twisted his features, and for now that was enough for Molly.    
  
Eventually, after much muttering into the scrap of wire, Caleb looked towards him once more.  “She says there was a cave-in.  The section of tunnels above us is almost entirely blocked off.  The good news is, it helped to take out the last few bugbears that were trying to kill them.”  
  
“And the bad news?”  
  
“It’s still unstable.  They managed to dig through some of it, but the further they go the more dangerous it is.  The fact that they got enough cleared away for this spell to reach is … well, as much as I want to get out of this place, I don’t think going any further is an option.”    
  
A few creative curses sprang to mind, but Molly decided to keep them to himself.  He stayed silent as Caleb once more listened intently to a voice only he could hear.    
  
“Apparently, Fjord ran into town to see if anyone had a map of this place, and … wait, he did what?”   
Bright blue eyes went wide and it almost looked like a trace of pale red dusted his cheeks.  “We, aah, might not be allowed back in that town anymore.”  
  
“You mean to tell me our dear Fjord went and threatened those poor villagers?”  Mollymauk let out an overdramatic sniffle and wiped an invisible tear from his face.  “I’m so proud.”  
  
Even in the dim light he could see how Caleb rolled his eyes as he managed to compose himself.  “Anyway, he found out that there are older tunnels down below the main level.  Which must be where we’ve ended up.  They’ve been abandoned for a long time though.  Something about the ore vein running dry.  Ooh, wait a moment.”  He held up his hand as he listened, repeating the information Nott was sharing with him in fits and starts.  “Apparently most of these lower tunnels are connected.  Our chances are fairly good that this one will intersect with the main branch.  There are other small shafts like the one we fell through, but none of them have a means in and out anymore.  If we can find an underground lake, that will lead us to the central tunnel.  And on the other end of that … “  Caleb smiled once more, relief practically radiating from him.  “There’s a way out.  Ooh Nott, that is wonderful news.  How far is it?”  
  
He couldn’t quite make out the rest of their conversation, but Mollymauk didn’t mind.  They had a way out of this hell hole and people doing all they could to get to them.  He let out a breathy laugh, all but giddy with the promise of freedom.  He didn’t even realize that the long distance planning session was done until the nameless sense of another living presence closing in made him look up as Caleb approached.  
  
“The others will meet us at the end of the central tunnel.  There should be enough of the old equipment still there that they’ll be able to rig a way to get us back to the surface.”  
  
Molly beamed up at him with a fanged grin.  “Sounds like a plan.”    
  
He held out a hand which Caleb grasped obligingly.  It took both of them to get Molly standing and even more to keep him that way, but once he’d gotten an arm around the wizard’s shoulders he managed to find his balance.  “Shall we go?” he asked with a flourish, gesturing into the darkness with his free hand.  Caleb just rolled his eyes, lips quirked into a faint smirk that anyone else would have missed entirely.    
  
Leaning against one another, the pair made their way into the narrow tunnel that had spared their lives.  The soft glow of magical light traveled with them, slowly fading from the sight of the collapse until it grew dark and silent once again.    
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh I hope this one's had enough editing ... but I've taken too long with it already and those of you who enjoyed this so far deserve a new chapter. (side note; I haven't posted this to tumblr at all yet but I'm strongly considering it~)

To say that Mollymauk Tealeaf didn’t care for silence would be an understatement.  Under normal circumstances, he preferred to fill his days with sound and color.  Friendly chatter, birdsong, his own tuneless humming, even the sound of horse hooves and slowly turning cart wheels had a soothing quality that he could appreciate.  The world above was rarely quiet.  But below, the silence reigned.    
  
Every little sound Molly and Caleb made echoed off stone walls, unwelcome and alien in this empty space.  Their labored breathing seemed so much louder than it should be.  The sounds pressed in on them and making the cramped tunnel even more unbearable.  The path wound around in seemingly random curves as it sloped slowly downward.  Molly tried not to think about how it was ushering them further and further from the surface.  They were down to a single globule of light guiding their way, Caleb having let the others go one by one with each recast of his spell as they walked.  The faint glow left wasn’t much to see by, but they didn’t exactly need much.  Despite its wandering trajectory, the tunnel was easy to navigate.  Only the odd fallen chunk of stone blocked their way.  Even with this unexpected fortune though, their trek through the winding cave was, in a word, miserable.    
  
Molly’s awkward, hopping gait might have kept him from further injuring his leg, but it also made him slow and clumsy.  And what’s worse, he had to lean heavily against Caleb just too keep from losing his balance and bringing them both toppling to the ground.  The wizard had his own injuries to deal with, and it was all too clear that supporting them both was sapping what strength he had.  They’d stopped to rest more than once already, leaning against whatever mostly smooth section of wall they could find because they both knew without saying it aloud that the convoluted process of getting back up would make actually sitting not worth the effort.  The whole ordeal was awkward and painful, and though Mollymauk couldn’t say it was the worst place he’d ever been it was certainly in the top ten.    
  
The globule of light sputtered and went dark as the spell ran out.  For a moment or so the cave was plunged into an endless darkness that even Molly could barely see anything through.  Then he felt Caleb shift beside him and bring a hand up.  The words he muttered under his breath weren’t in a language Molly could understand, but having heard them so often he knew them well by now.  Reborn light glowed in the wizard’s palm, and he sent it out with a subtle flick of the wrist to let it hover overhead once more.    
  
He didn’t know how long they’d been down here.  Caleb, with his uncanny talent for knowing the time regardless of what madness was going on around him, probably had some idea, but Molly wasn’t interested in asking.  He didn’t need any reminders of how long they’d been in this tunnel or how slowly their progress through it was.  Judging by how many times he’d seen this particular spell cast, however, it had to be quite a while.  At least the regular fade and flare of lights gave him something interesting to focus on.  And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the words and gestures associated with this sort of magic intriguing.    
  
“I’m surprised you haven’t called out that cat of yours,” he said as his gaze followed the newly conjured sphere.  It was strange to see Caleb without his fae familiar prancing along beside him or draped lazily across his shoulders like a living scarf.  He seemed smaller, somehow, for the lack of it.  Like he was missing something important.    
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb blink at him in confusion.  “You didn’t hear me?  I told Frumpkin to stay with Nott.  She, aah … well, she sounded like she might … “  His voice trailed off into nervous silence as he looked away, his free hand idly scratching at a spot of dried, flaking blood that decorated the side of his face.  
  
“I didn’t want to intrude on a private conversation.  Besides, you were muttering.”  Molly flashed a teasing grin, despite the fact that he was almost positive it went unnoticed.  “That was nice of you though.  I’m sure she appreciates the company.”  
  
Bright blue eyes glanced up at him then quickly turned away.  Caleb coughed awkwardly in a transparent effort to derail the conversation.  “I could use a drink, how about you?”  
  
“Gods yes, but water will do.”    
  
They propped each other up long enough to hobble their way to a smooth patch of rock not too far from where another narrow channel fed into the main passage.  Not a great resting spot, but nothing was.  Molly was dismayed at what remained of his water supply, though it didn’t stop him from taking a much needed sip.  There was enough for now, but it wouldn’t last.  They hadn’t thought to restock yet, what with how quickly their visit to the nearby town had gone sour, and now they were both regretting it.    
  
The cavern seemed to settle without the constant shuffle of their steps, quiet draping itself over the space like a fresh coating of dust.  Molly shuddered despite himself.  Though he tried to play off the action as a simple shiver, drawing his colorful coat tighter around himself, he knew it hadn’t worked.  Even in the darkness, he could practically feel Caleb’s gaze on him.  Leave it to the Nein’s resident wizard to catch the little details even when someone wished he wouldn’t.    
  
“You seem very … “ Caleb fell silent for a moment, frowning as he weighed his options with care.  “Tense.”  
  
Molly shrugged, turning his face away in what he hoped was a casual gesture.  “I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces.”  
  
“I have seen you in many enclosed spaces before.”  
  
“It’s different when it’s … this far underground.”    
  
Caleb said nothing at first, though it was all too clear that his mind was far from quiet.  The silence between them was alive with pensive energy.  Molly hazarded a glance and watched as unreadable emotions drew the wizard’s brows into a tight furrow.  Caleb leaned forward slightly and took in a breath of air as if to speak, but whatever words of confusion or understanding he’d chosen did not come.  Instead he froze, eyes wide, still as a statue.    
  
“I hear something,” he whispered.    
  
A jolt of fear raced down Mollymauk’s spine.  They were supposed to be alone in these caves, as awful as that was in its own right.  There should have been nothing alive but the two of them to make any sort of sound.  But Caleb had heard something.  And now, Molly heard it too.  Something was out there, scraping softly against the stone.    
  
“Caleb, the light,” he hissed in warning as he drew one of his swords, but his companion shook his head in reply.  
  
“Whatever is down here can see a lot better in the dark than we can.”  Still, he called the light to him, carefully cupping his free hand around it to dampen its glow.    
  
The two of them pushed themselves away from the stone.  Molly teetered a bit, but as he instinctively reached out he found an arm already wrapping itself around him.  They stumbled a step or two away from the wall, searching for the source of the sound as it slowly grew louder.  The scraping bounced off the walls in a disorienting echo, but he could see no sign of a creature large enough to make it anywhere around them.  Closer and closer it came.  The sound grew louder, inescapable, and his attention was drawn to the small side-tunnel just in time to see something beginning to emerge.    
  
It was reptilian in nature, almost draconic though far smaller and sleeker than any of the pictures Molly had seen.  A tapered, narrow snout sniffed at the air, nostrils flaring.  It was searching for them, he realized.  It didn’t see them despite the fact that they were the only source of light for miles.  Then it turned in their direction, and he understood why.  Where the creature’s eyes should have been there was only blank, wrinkled skin.  He saw no signs of injury nor sunken pits where eyes had once been.  There was just nothing.    
  
The monster was relatively small yet long, its body stretched into a column of muscle studded with what must have been half a dozen pairs of legs.  It skittered its way across the wall, its body lithe and serpentine, clinging to the rock with thick, sharp claws.  A tongue slithered out of its mouth, flicking in the air before gliding across a row of numerous, gleaming teeth.  The dull light of Caleb’s magic orb reflected off of the creature’s scales, the effect making it appear almost wet.  Its tail twitched with an anxious sort of energy.  It sniffed the air again, a low gravely sound rumbling in its throat.  The narrow head tilted towards them.  The creature’s lips pulled back, needle-like teeth on full display, as the growl morphed into a pleased hiss.  It slithered its way to the cavern floor, prowling towards them with all the unmistakable power of a predator on the hunt.    
  
Caleb released the light he’d been shielding, letting it spin up above them in a tilting, dizzy orbit, and reached out towards the approaching monster.  His fingers began to glow.  Deep red veiled his hand as ashy black began to crawl across his skin.  A spark of something bright leaped from his fingertips and burst into a small ball of flame that rocketed through the air.  It struck the side of the creature’s head, spreading across its scales and causing its thick skin to redden.  The monster hissed angrily, shaking its head and pawing at the flames with one of its many clawed feet until all that remained was charred scales and smoke.  It puffed out its chest and screeched, the sound reverberating in its body and through the cavern.  Then it surged forward with frightening speed, propelling itself with a loping, lunging gait that ate up the distance between them far too fast.    
  
Molly braced himself on his good leg and pivoted, twisting his body in order to drag Caleb behind himself and earning a startled yelp of protest for his troubles.  He swayed dangerously but somehow managed to keep his grip on the wizard’s shoulder and stay on his feet.    
  
“Hold me up!” he yelled, and barely a moment later he felt Caleb’s arms lock in place around him.    
  
With both hands now free, he quickly unsheathed his other sword.  Acting on the instincts that had always served him well, he twisted both blades and dragged each one across the opposite forearm.  Crimson blood ran along the edges for barely an instant before it froze, becoming tiny, frigid rubies that spread outwards until the blades were coated with a thin, glistening layer of ice.    
  
The monster leapt for them, fangs glistening white in its gaping jaws, and Molly lunged forward to meet it.  He heard a strangled cry of pain behind him and nearly answered it with one of his own as he forced his leg to take some of his weight.  Ice-coated blades flashed like beacons in the dark.  One swing was too low, the curved edge passing harmlessly under the creature, but the other sliced its way through the side of that yawning maw and kept going.  Molly turned sharply once more, shifting himself and Caleb away as the monster struck the ground with a bone crunching thud.  Dark blood poured from a deep slit in its face, coating the jagged crystals of frost that clung to its skin.  It scrambled to its feet, claws skittering over stone, hissing and spitting as it pawed at the injury.    
  
For a long, terrifying moment, Mollymauk was sure the creature wouldn’t stop there.  He feigned another attack, jerking forward and bringing one of his blades down in a deliberately shallow swing accompanied by a sharp, angry yell.  The beast flinched back, long spine arched up in an exaggerated curve.  It hissed once more, needle teeth on full display, but did not attempt another attack of its own.  Instead it retreated, cautiously at fist before breaking into a sprint once it was well and truly free from the range of Molly’s swords.  He watched it go.  Neither he nor Caleb made any attempt to stop the creature as it raced up the cavern walls, running sideways until it could dart into the fork in the tunnel and vanish into the cramped passage it had come from, leaving behind only a splatter of cooling blood and the quickly fading echo of its claws.    
  
Molly let out a breath he hadn’t been conscious of holding.  He barely had a moment for the victory to sink in before suddenly the world was tipping sideways as he was dragged down by the arms still clinging to his waist.  Caleb barely remembered to release him as he pulled them both to the ground.  Molly quickly tucked his swords away, the ice that coated them melting into a cold trickle that soaked the fabric of his pants.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, forcing down a spike of worry that they hadn’t been quite as lucky as he’d thought.    
  
“I just,” Caleb said in broken gasps, “need to … catch my breath.”  
  
“Ya, me too,” Molly agreed as he let himself sink the rest of the way down.  He scooted an inch or so away and stretched his legs out, wincing as he did.  
  
It was so tempting to just flop back on the hard stone and not get up again.  The others could find them here, right?  Sure they still hadn’t found the water that would lead them to the exit, but there weren’t that many paths down here.  The Mighty Nein were resourceful, they’d find the right tunnel eventually.  But as much as he longed to lie down and sleep until someone else fixed this for him, he knew that wasn’t the best of options.  They had no guarantees that the creature he’d scared off wouldn’t come back.  Or worse, that it hadn’t been a juvenile and something much bigger was out there waiting to pounce.  They couldn’t stay here no matter how tempting it may be.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the unplanned rest stop though.  He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, resting his weight on his arms.    
  
With their magical light still glowing faintly above, the caves weren’t so bad.  At least that’s what he kept telling himself.  It had already opened up so much and from what he could see that trend was going to continue.  Sure more space meant more places for creatures like the one that had attacked them to hide, but it was oddly comforting to find life in this space.  Even if that life was hostile.  It made the caverns seem more like a secluded part of nature and less like, well, things Mollymauk didn’t want to let himself dwell on.   
  
He took deep breaths as the last of the adrenaline surge that had been fueling him faded.  The pain in his leg was back with a vengeance, but he was determined to ignore it for now.  He strained to hear any hint of claws from the darkness and found nothing but the faintly wheezing breaths of himself and his friend.  The only thing left as proof that the creature had even been there was the almost metallic smell of its spilled blood and the smoky char of singed scales.  But as he let himself focus on that lingering scent, he became aware of another that still hung in the air.  
  
The smell of burnt flesh had stood out when it was new and frightening, but he’d grown used to it as they walked, letting it fade off into the stench of drying blood and stale, musky air.  But it was still there, even this far away from where the nameless goblin had died.  It shouldn’t still be clinging to them this way.  Unless there was another source.  Mollymauk opened his eyes again.  Caleb was still sitting right where he had been, slumped in on himself and leaning one shoulder against the cavern wall.  One arm was wrapped around himself as he shuddered faintly.  
  
“What did you do to yourself?”  
  
Caleb turned to him with a questioning word that Molly could understand the tone of if not the actual meaning.  “What do you mean by that?”  
  
“You said you were hurt but that you took care of it.  What did you do?”  
  
He reached for the torn, sodden edge of Caleb’s shirt only to have his hand swatted away.  He didn’t try again.  He didn’t really need to.  Even the subtle shift of fabric he’d managed had released a fresh burst of that sickening charred smell.  Red eyes met blue, challenging and accusatory, and for once Caleb did not flinch away.  
  
“Well what would you have had me do?  Bleed out?  Because that was the only other option.  I do not want to die, Mollymauk.”  Caleb held his intense gaze for only a few breaths more, and in it Molly saw all the desperation and fear he normally kept hidden.  Then that surge of bold anger left him, and the fire in his eyes drained away until only the nervous shell of a man the Mighty Nein had come to know remained.  “Besides, it isn’t a big deal.”  
  
“And who taught you that, huh?”  
  
Molly was half-expecting there to be more shouting.  Anger.  Denial.  Something.    
  
There wasn’t.  
  
Caleb pushed himself upwards, clinging to the wall like a man too drunk to see the floor.  Agony was written plain as day across his features.  Then he schooled his face into a familiar mask.  Not quite neutral, there was always too much anxious tension in the man for that, but something restrained and nearly impossible to read.  Caleb held out a hand towards him, though Mollymauk couldn’t help but notice the rigid way he held himself or how he still clung to the wall for support.  
  
“Come on, we are wasting time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead, just slow at updating. Story of my life really. I actually had this chapter mostly done for along time, but thanks to deadlines I couldn't get the time to properly edit it till now. So, for those of you who enjoyed the previous parts, I hope this is worth the wait. Also, WARNING I updated the tags on this for a reason.

As they walked deeper into the caverns, if you could call their codependent shuffling shamble ‘walking’, Mollymauk kept his complaints to himself.  It went against his nature to be silent, unless it was about something that really mattered, but there was a lingering tension between them that he couldn’t quite find his way around just yet.  It wasn’t that Caleb was angry with him, at least he didn’t think so.  There had been no real change in his behavior nor was he being overly cold.  Instead it felt like he was waiting for something.  Bracing himself for an incoming blow.  One that Molly didn’t know if he should or shouldn’t go through with.  So he stayed silent on the matter, for the time being at least, and the pair were left to stew in their own thoughts.    
  
They kept on that way, long past the point where Molly had stopped trying to keep track of time or distance, until something new managed to pull him out of his personal mire of worry, frustration, and dread.  He could see where they were going.  The ball of light circling lazily above them still put out the same dull glow as before, if perhaps a bit dimmer than it had been, but where as the light had once barely managed to illuminate the ground in front of them, now Mollymauk could see even further.  The tunnel stretched on a good few feet in relative clarity before slowly fading into deep shadows.  A quick look at his traveling companion, whose eyes were firmly trained on the ground in front of him, told him it wasn’t likely that Caleb had noticed yet.  If it was even real, that is, and not the product of wishful thinking and a lingering head injury.  He looked behind them, twisting to glance back over his shoulder just too make sure.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked, already on alert for another attack.    
  
The tunnel was darker where they’d come from, what little light they had vanishing much quicker than the path he’d been studying a moment ago.  Not his imagination then.  Molly turned back towards the dull glow.  “Am I seeing things, or is this place … “  
  
“Getting brighter.”  
  
The pair shared a look, and even in the dim light it was impossible for either to have missed their growing excitement.  They hurried forward as best they could as the light brightened and the stale, musty air gave way to the pungent aromas of mold and moss.  The white-gold glow of their magic orb flickered out, but this time Caleb did not pause to recast it.  He didn’t need to.  As they drew closer, the source of the new light gradually revealed itself, fading in from the dark as they approached.  
  
When he’d heard about the water they were meant to find, Mollymauk had expected something simple.  Perhaps an underground stream with just enough water to trickle along until it pooled in a natural depression of stone.  What he found, however, was so much more than that.  The lake was large, easily spanning the majority of the chamber they’d stumbled their way into.  There was no way of knowing how deep it was, though the plants growing at the edges of the water gave some indication that it wasn’t too shallow.  Mosses and mushrooms grew in clumps, occasionally broken up by the odd stalk of something Molly could not identify, each one topped with a small bulb that emitted a gentle green-tinted glow.  Up above, on the jagged cavern ceiling, tiny spots of luminous blue glittered like stars.  As they drew closer he saw them moving ever so slowly.  Long, translucent strands hanging down from the stone wafted gently above.    
  
“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, entranced by the sight.  Without thinking, he tried to take a step forward only to find that his living crutch did not follow.  Mollymauk stumbled and fell, hitting the ground with a pained yelp.  The sound bounced off the walls in a ringing echo for only a moment or two before it was drowned out by a hundred angry squeals.  A swarm of bats descended from some distant corner of the cavern ceiling.  They dropped like dark stones and quickly snapped their wings out, taking to the air in a furious tangle of bodies.  Molly swore under his breath as he reached for his swords, but to his surprise the bats did not surge towards them.  Instead the swarm rose higher, dark shapes darting in and out of the shadows that had hidden them, before some unknown signal sent them all flying off down the tunnels.    
  
As the sound of leathery wings faded back into tense silence, Molly slowly let himself relax.  “Well,” he said with a grim, humorless laugh that did little to cover his discomfort, “that was a near thing.”  
  
Looking back, he saw his companion sinking to the ground behind him.  Caleb muttered something that sounded like an apology, though not in a language that Molly could understand.  Much as it might satisfy his inner pettiness to respond with some sarcastic comments, he couldn’t bring himself to sling blame onto someone who looked so done in.    
  
Instead, Mollymauk made himself comfortable, relatively speaking at least, and settled in for a long overdue rest.  With a hiss of pain he made no attempts to hide, he slowly shifted his leg until it was stretched out straight.  He wished he could check the injury, but going to all the trouble of removing the improvised splint and unlacing his boots was a daunting enough proposition to make him give up on that idea.  Instead he carefully prodded the wrapped area, biting back a curse as the pain that had become a constant companion flared with renewed strength.  His leg was swollen around the break.  Even under the many layers of leather and cloth, he could feel warmth and pressure surrounding the injury.  With neither conversation nor the difficulties of traveling through this place to distract him, the pulsing pain of it against the tight bindings was almost unbearable.    
  
Desperate for something to distract him, Mollymauk turned his attention back to the lake.  Ripples still danced across its surface, kicked up by the furious flapping of the bats’ wings.  As he watched, they slowly stilled until the water once more smoothed itself into a glowing mirror.   For all that he wished he was anywhere else, this place really was beautiful.    
  
Something glimmered in the distance.  It was just faint enough that, for a moment or so, Molly thought he’d just imagined it.  But then he saw it again, a soft glint of something reflecting the glow that surrounded this odd oasis.  A creature.  It snaked along, close to the ground, light bouncing off what must have been scales as it slowly crept from one side of the tunnel to the other.  This far away and with no magic balls of light to illuminate it, Mollymauk couldn’t tell if it was one of the things that had attacked them before or not.  And in that moment, he really didn’t want to find out.  He watched it, one hand inching towards the hilt of his sword once more, but it was mercifully already moving away from them.  Molly held his breath as it slowly crawled up one of the high stone walls and slithered away, its dark shape barely distinguishable as it slunk back into the shadows until the last trace of it had vanished.    
  
They were alone once more, but still Molly couldn’t relax.  How many more of those things lived down here?  For all they knew they’d stumbled upon some subterranean watering hole for all manner of fanged or possibly poisonous beasts.  Not exactly a reassuring thought.  And even as he scanned the area for signs of movement and found none, he couldn’t quite shake it.  He scooted a bit closer to Caleb.  At least he wasn’t completely alone, a fact which he kept reminding himself of whenever it all seemed too quiet and too close.  And maybe a living, breathing person could make a better pillow than the unyielding stone floor.    
  
“Hey Caleb?” Molly asked, his voice lilting with the usual teasing tone he employed when he wanted a frivolous favor.     
  
There was no answer.  Not even a soft grunt of recognition.  At first Molly thought Caleb might have fallen asleep, something that would have been completely reasonable in his opinion, but he hadn’t moved at all.  Caleb looked pale as snow in the strange, blue-green light of their tiny haven.  He was always on the pale side, even for a human, but this?  This wasn’t right.  Molly leaned closer, trying to make out some color through the tinted glow and the monochromatic filter that always shaded his vision when the lighting was dim.  Though they still appeared somewhat muted, the brightest hues came through.  The copper-red of Caleb’s hair, the sky blue of his eyes, and the ruddy flush painted across otherwise pallid cheeks.    
  
“Caleb?” he asked again, his worry only growing as it earned him a muttered answer that he was fairly sure didn’t count as actual words.  “You still with me?”  
  
“Where else would I be?”  
  
Mollymauk liked to think that he knew the rest of the Mighty Nein pretty well by this point.  He’d learned how they walked, how they talked, and what their little glances and idle fidgeting said when words were not enough.  And what he heard now was not right.  Despite his accent, Caleb had a very deliberate way of speaking.  He kept his words clear and easy to follow.  Maybe it was years of study that did it, long hours spent pouring over books teaching him to pronounce every aspect of an incantation as crisply as possible lest a misplaced vowel turn what was mean to be a helpful enchantment into a disaster.  Or it could have been a result of being with people who didn’t speak the language he’d grown up with and wanting to make sure that he was always understood in spite of that fact.  Whatever the reason, the way Caleb spoke was precise and, at least in their little band, unique.  This languid muttering he heard now, sounds blending into one another with none of the clean distinction he’d come to expect, was wrong.    
  
He placed a hand on Caleb’s cheek, almost hoping to be swatted away.  The human’s skin should have felt cool against his own.  It didn’t.    
  
“Okay, that’s it.  Take your shirt off.”  
  
That, at last, managed to cut through the fog in his companion’s mind.  Caleb jolted up to blink at him with wide, startled eyes only to flinch away as the motion pulled at his wounds.  He sucked in a wheezing breath, shoulders hunched as he tried to curl into a protective ball.  Molly steadied him as best he could, waiting as the shudders running through him eased into subtle shivering.  Though his movements were insistent as he pushed tattered fabric aside, Mollymauk kept his touch gentle.  Caleb could pull away from him if he wanted to, provided he still had the strength to put up even a token fight, and for a moment it seemed like he might do just that.  But then that last spark of defiance left him and he slumped in surrender.    
  
The strips of cloth masquerading as bandages were nothing short of disgusting.  Molly recognized them as the wrappings Caleb normally wore around his arms, noting with a small twinge of shame that he hadn’t realized the coverings were missing till now, but they were stained with so much gore that the original color was lost.  He held his breath as he carefully began to pull them away.  There was some resistance and he dearly wished they had more clean water to spare in order to make the process easier, but with a gentle tug or two they finally came away.  
  
Mollymauk couldn’t quite stop himself from gagging at the sight.  He held his breath, swallowing against the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.  There was a hole beneath Caleb’s ribs.  That would be bad enough, Molly’d had more than enough similar injuries of his own to know how devastating that could be.  But this?  This was something new.  He’d known, of course, what to expect for the most part.  Known what Caleb had done in the name of survival.  But knowing and seeing were very different things.  The area was a mottled mess of angry red and bloodless white.  Small bits of thin flesh had stuck to the bandage, ripping off as it was pulled back and leaving only the tattered edges of what had once covered deep blisters which ringed the worst of the damage.  The deepest parts looked like they had been eaten away, sinking into the skin and revealing something darker.  Not just burnt, but charred.  To his horror, Molly could make out the faint shapes of finger prints from where Caleb had pressed fire into himself.  
  
The burn itself was bad, he’d known that would be the case even though he hadn’t been prepared for the reality, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  Something pale and thick oozed from the deepest areas, cutting trails through the old blood that soaked his bandages.  Even the undamaged skin around the sight was affected, swollen and discolored.  Molly carefully touched Caleb’s side, fingers curling around him, and ran his thumb over the bruised flesh.  It was hot to the touch, and his fingertips brushed against a second source of wet, tacky heat on his back.  
  
A hand slapped at his own, though there wasn’t enough force behind it to even sting.  “Stop.”  
  
“Caleb, this is infected,” Mollymauk said, barely containing the edge of infernal that threatened to take over his words.  Only the need to avoid unwanted attention kept him from fully venting the fear welling up in his chest.   
  
But Caleb, it seemed, was unfazed.  “That happens sometimes,” he said, his words soft and faintly slurred.  “With burns.”    
  
A thousand arguments sprang to mind.  Caleb should have said something!  Should have told him the truth about his wounds, at the very least.  Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything, given their situation, but it would be better to know.  Wouldn’t it?  Better to be prepared and on the lookout for signs that things were going bad.  Better still to have avoided it all and found a different way to stem the flow of blood from an injury that Mollymauk was still discovering the full extent of, if such a thing was possible.  And even if it wasn’t, even if hurting himself further was the only way to save himself, at the very least Caleb should have told him when he’d started feeling ill.  They could have taken more breaks.  Cleaned the wound with water.  Gotten some rest.  Done something, anything, to make things easier before he got this bad.  
  
But Molly said none of that.  He only grit his teeth as he muttered ‘hold still’.  It would do no good to argue with someone as stubborn and fatalistic as Caleb Widogast.  Especially with that dazed look in his eyes.  Fortunately there was something else he could do that might actually be of use.  
  
Mollymauk drew his sword just enough to expose part of the edge and pressed the side of his arm into it.  It split the skin easily, releasing a thin trickle of crimson blood.  He hadn’t used this particular curse much.  In fact he could only remember doing it once before, when he’d talked a thoroughly drunken Beauregard into letting him try something weird.  It had worked then, for the most part.  He hoped it would work now.    
  
There was a sharp pricking sensation as the red eye tattooed on his neck began to bleed, but he ignored the trickle of hot liquid that saturated the fabric of his collar.  A dark, putrid fluid began to seep from the charred flesh in Caleb’s side.  It gathered into a growing bead of liquid, suspended by the magic that drew it forth as blood called to blood.    
  
Caleb flinched away, expression pinched with pain, and Molly grabbed onto his shoulder to keep him in place as he shuddered.  This process wasn’t pleasant under the best of circumstances, he’d learned that before.  And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t affect him as well.  But Molly held on to the tingling thread of power he commanded as disease pooled at his fingertips and blood ran down his own neck.    
  
As the magic of his crimson rite eventually reached its end, he swept his outstretched hand to the side in a fast, almost graceful arc.  The liquid followed, splattering foul smelling gore across the stone floor.  Caleb’s eyes rolled back as he went limp, slumping backwards like a lifeless doll. 

Mollymauk lunged to catch him, tightening his grip and curling a free arm around his back.  He eased Caleb to the ground and, when his tingling arms refused to stop shaking, let himself follow.  Molly felt lightheaded and dizzy, his vision darkening at the edges in a gray haze.  It was a sadly familiar sensation.  Between his earlier injuries and the crimson rite, he’d lost too much blood.  Not so much that he feared for his life, he was unfortunately familiar with that as well, but even without his broken leg sending pulses of pain shooting up his spine he knew he wouldn’t have been going anywhere for a while.  
  
Their raspy, labored breathing echoed through the cavern.  This place, for all its peaceful quiet, wasn’t safe.  Molly was very aware of that.  Creatures had to come here regularly for water and would be drawn to the scent of blood, both old and new, that clung to them.  And if any such beasts were bold enough to consider a human and a tiefling as prey, there was little he could do like this to stop them.  But they had no options left.  
  
Mollymauk pulled Caleb close, arms wrapped too tight around thin shoulders.  He liked to pretend, as most adventuring types did, that he could handle everything life threw at him.  That he was in control at all times and could either fight or talk his way out of any situation.  And a lot of the time, against all odds and good sense, it ended up being true.  But at the end of the day, his act was still an act, and no amount of flashy tricks or pretty words would fix things this time.  So he clung to the only source of comfort he had, even if it could not cling back.    
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tight against the prickling burn of restrained tears.  Molly curled around his companion, pressing his face into dirty ginger hair as if there was still something down here to hide from.  When Caleb woke up, they could keep going.  When the fever burning through him cooled to something manageable and he regained a bit of his strength, they would pick themselves up and put this behind them, safely ignoring it until they’d clawed their way out of this thrice damned pit and were safe under the sun again.   
  
And until then, if Mollymauk let himself break a little, well, there was no one else there to see it.    
  
  



End file.
